


I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me (so how do we win?)

by a_secondhand_sorrow



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with an okay ending, Character Study, Friends to Lovers, Kleinsen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Underage Drinking, alchohol, but only kind of, connor is dead but that’s a minor plot point, i said it was rough, im starting to Regret my choices, kind of, ok it’s kind of happy, this is rough so pls don’t trigger yourself ok, ’family friends’
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secondhand_sorrow/pseuds/a_secondhand_sorrow
Summary: “We’re just family friends.”***Jared slapped a crooked smile on his face and sharpened his wit so he’d always have a joke ready to deflect with. He forced himself into seats at lunch tables with barely-even-acquaintances. He broke into his parents liquor cabinet and drank himself asleep.And that’s... fine.***(or: pretending is fine, until it isn’t.)





	I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me (so how do we win?)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a Fun Time (no it’s not I’m lying. it’s angsty)
> 
> read tags for triggers!!
> 
> title from “sick of losing soulmates” by dodie (whom I love with my entire heart)

_“You’re just a family friend. Speaking of which, could you mention to your mom I’ve been being nice to you? I need my car insurance payed.”_

_Jared’s already flinching inwardly at how crass he sounds. It’s not even distancing; it’s straight up dickish. But he makes sure to keep his face the same calculated blank expression as always, and Evan nods, an expression Jared can’t quite read on his face._

_But really, Jared knows. He knows he’s not fooling Evan when he says they’re only family friends. He doesn’t even believe himself._

***

Jared’s not quite sure when he became an asshole.

Or, no-he’s pretty sure he’s always had the asshole-ness inside of him. More accurately, he’s not sure what made him share it.

(If he’s honest with himself, he knows damn well what. But honesty has never been Jared’s forté, _especially_ with himself.)

Since he doesn’t care much for honesty, he can just continue on being a dick, without much problem.

He’s already invisible to everyone; no one really cares about him, and he knows they can’t stand him. He can’t even stand himself.

But there’s Evan. Evan, with the patience of a goddamn saint. Evan, who puts up with him being an asshole who blows him off and says he only hangs out with him to appease his parents. Evan, who has never once turned Jared away when he needed human contact.

(Evan, with the most beautiful eyes and glowing personality and infuriatingly nice hair, even though his anxiety may mask it.)

And Evan is all he has, which he’s perfectly fine with because he’d be fine with only Evan for the rest of his life, except for the fact that every time he sees him he screws things up and he knows that one day Evan will be done with his shit and finally leave. It’s a day Jared knows has to be coming, since he’s such a fuckup and he’ll have to wake up. Jared can’t even handle himself. And if Evan ever knew just how deep things went—

  
He could never know.

So Jared pushed Evan away and kept him at arms’ length with the assistance of “family friends” and cruel jokes. He could almost ignore the pang in his chest every time he saw him frown at one of his jokes or stare at the table during lunch. He could almost ignore the way Evan walked on eggshells around him. He could almost ignore the sleepless nights where he wondered how Evan was, what it would feel like to be able to reach out without letting down his carefully curated veneer.

And that was fine. It wasn’t good, or enjoyable. But it was fine. He was fine.

Until he realized there was nothing else for him, besides Evan. All his middle school friends had ditched him long before when he became too “clingy,” both his parents worked full-time, and he didn’t _do_ anything.

He slapped a crooked smile on his face and sharpened his wit so he’d always have a joke ready to deflect with. He forced himself into seats at lunch tables with barely-even-acquaintances. He broke into his parents liquor cabinet and drank himself asleep.

Words became his weapons as he wrapped himself in humor like armor, wielded his cruelty like a sword, wore a fake confidence to cover all of his insecurities. He was never anywhere but he forced himself everywhere. He didn’t think he was funny but he built himself around his jokes. He was never happy but he was never upset, either.  
He could almost convince himself it was all true.

Jared became one hell of an actor.

And that’s… _fine._

And if Evan finds him having a panic attack in the bathroom one day because the acting was just too much, he never talks about it.

If Evan, with the tiny crease between his brows as they furrowed in concern, with his hands gripping at his shirt, with his eyes nervously darting to Jared’s but knowing exactly what to do, was the only thing that could actually calm him down, he didn’t think much of it.

If he wanted nothing more than to apologize in that moment, if nothing else, or to lean in and kiss him and feel Evan’s arms wrap around him as panic finally left him, to leave the bathroom hand in hand and never let go, he never said it.

And if he knew, in that moment, that he’d fallen in love, he never let on.

If he bit out an insult about how much of a freak Evan was and how he’d never need help from a loser like him, he’d never admit it.

If he could feel his heart tear as Evan’s eyes watered and his hand dropped and he rushed out of the bathroom leaving Jared to resume his uneven breathing, he refused to acknowledge it.

If he sunk to the floor and dropped his head into his hands and finally let himself cry, for the first time in several years, he never mentioned it.

He told himself all of that, anyway. He never was one for honesty. He could almost believe it, too.

(He never quite did.)

And that’s fine. Even though it’s really not fine…it’s fine.

It’s not good, but it’s normal, and Jared will take it.

Change is just too much.

Senior year is just another step in the road. After senior year, he’s off to college and finally away from the suffocating persona he’s crafted for himself.

And Evan has a broken arm.

Which would be normal, except Jared knows damn well that as much as Evan loves trees he’d never climb one.

Unless he was planning something drastic.

He sees something, something deep within the set of Evan’s shoulders and the depths of his pupils. Something he’s felt echoing in his own mind increasingly, broken and distorted.

But Jared’s one to talk.

It’s almost as though he’s willed it into existence, but a few days later Connor Murphy kills himself.

  
_Hey, loving the new haircut, very school-shooter chic._

When he finds out, he takes the day off of school. Something settled in the pit of his stomach, a dark and writhing shame that felt like a question.  
His mother tries to find out what’s making him so sick, but eventually he convinces her to let him stay home alone. She’s against it, and she means well, he knows she does, but for once he really wishes his parents could just say no.

Once she’s gone, he crawls his way out of bed and makes his way through the house with slow, heavy steps. He’s never noticed how filled the house is with pictures, mostly of him as a child, all beaming at the camera with that opened-mouth smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt happy enough to smile like that. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling like that again.

He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine. And that’s fine.

He’s in front of the liquor cabinet before he knows he is. Unconsciously, he’s pulling out that bottle of vodka he knows has been sitting there for years, taking a swig that’s probably a little heavier than recommended with an upset stomach.

It’s habit. It’s normal. But it feels different, almost.

Jesus, Connor Murphy’s dead days after you call him a school shooter. You might as well be dead too, huh?

_You’re the fucking freak._

He takes another swig out of the bottle, feeling it burn on the way down.

No use being alive when you’re already invisable, right? Who’s gonna grieve you? Your parents who never make sure you’re okay? Your classmates who laugh at your jokes but call you clingy? All the people you torment just because it makes you feel like you have some social standing? The boy you’ve been desperately in love with for three years who deserves way better than a dick who won’t even be seen with him in public?

If this is his life, than living isn’t worth shit.

There’s sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet upstairs. Or he could clear out the liquor cabinet and hope that that’s enough.

Either way, another drink wouldn’t hurt.

He thinks of Evan for a moment. There’s nothing for him but Evan, but he doesn’t deserve a minute of Evan’s time. There’ll be no pain for Evan if he’s gone. The only pain will be what Jared is feeling, and once that’s out of the equation…

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door, frantic and sporadic.

Shoving the bottle back into the cabinet, Jared smoothely makes his way to the front door, hoping he looks sick enough to pass.

All he gets is another wave of nausea while Evan stares up at him, hair disheveled and breathing ragged.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Evan says, and it’s only then that Jared realizes Evan’s entire body is shaking. He launches himself at Jared, arms wrapping around his neck. He’s shaking so hard Jared is surprised he was still standing out there.

Without thinking, Jared wraps one arm around Evan’s shoulders while attempting to close the door around him.

They stand like that for another moment before Evan attempted to explain himself.

“I’m sorry, I just, god, I know you don’t want to hear from me and I know you hate me but I’m in a really bad place and I can’t believe Connor Murphy is dead and I feel so horrible because he stole my letter—”

Jared pulls back. now that he can feel Evan becoming steadier, and cuts him off. “Wait, wait, sorry, just—”

“I, um, I had to write letters to myself as a therapy assignment and I was printing one on the first day and Connor saw it and freaked out and the whole thing sounded like a suicide note—”

  
“What?”

“And,” Evan continues his word vomit. “I think—I think that might have been part of why he’s—oh _god_.” which is punctuated by Evan dropping his head into his hands.

Jared blinks once, trying to process everything. “Wait, but, why…did it sound like a suicide note?”

Evan doesn’t move, but Jared swears he can hear a sniffle.

“Evan,” and this time, his voice is soft but clear, coercing him into looking back up. “Were you going to…”

Evan’s eyes go wide. “No! Not then. I don’t think. Except,” he pauses, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “It wasn’t— it was earlier this year and-I don’t know why I’m here, I’m so sorry, just, bye, I’ll leave—”

“Jesus Christ, Evan,” Jared said, trying to sound just annoyed enough that the affection and worry in his voice would be masked. “What is it?”

“I didn’t fall.” He blurts, and Jared is silenced.

“From the tree. This summer. I let go. I…”

Somehow, Jared knows what Evan was going to say. His tone is flat as he fills in where Evan left off. “…felt like you could disappear? Like it would be better if you did?”

Evan nods, not quite meeting Jared’s eyes.

Puzzle pieces start to click in Jared’s brain, even through the fair amount he’d had to drink. “And that’s why you came here. Because you thought that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be able to stop.” He was suddenly aware of his palms shaking and stomach turning over, vision tunneling so all he could see was Evan. Evan wanted to die, and it was his fault, at least partially.

Jared could’ve burst into tears. He just managed to swallow the lump down.

_We’re just family friends._

Evan’s saying something, but Jared can’t remember what. There’s the bottle of vodka, and there’s the sleeping pills upstairs. They’re sorely tempting, but Evan’s standing in front of him. How could he want to die when Evan is standing in front of him, needing him to save him?

He wanted nothing more, but how could he save Evan when his own brain wanted nothing more than release?

How could he save Evan when he’d been part of the reason for his destruction?

Now it’s Jared who can’t meet Evan’s eyes, and he begins to ask “how did you knows this?” His eyes fall on the hastily hidden vodka bottle and the cabinet which had fallen open in Jared’s haste to get to the door.

Jared scrambled to explain. “I-I just, I was a dick to Connor and I was horrible and he’s—no one cares about me anyway but I’ve still been horrible enough to someone that they killed themselves and—now it’s like, you felt…like that, and it’s just—how can I keep going in like this? I’m just,” he broke off for a moment, choking over his words, “all I do is hurt people.”

“No,” Evan breathes, looking more crestfallen than before. He shoots himself forward again, lips crashing against Jared’s, and the world crashes to a halt just for a moment. It’s desperate and hurried and frantic, but Jared feels that he could smile again, even if this moment is his last with Evan. Or last ever.

There’s a million unsaid things in the air, but somehow in the space of a moment he hears all of them. They’re everything he’s needed to hear for the last seventeen years. _I need you_ s and _you’re important to me_ s and _it wasn’t you_ s and _I love_ _you_ s.

Evan pulls away too quickly, murmuring another no as he buries his face in Jared’s chest. “No. You can’t… I wouldn’t…”

“Oh yeah?” Jared says, voice choked with tears. “How do you think I felt when you said it, asshole?”

Evan laughs a little, a wet, discordant thing, but still reaches up to kiss Jared again. And then they’re both crying, not quite sure how to move forward but desperately grasping at each other to make sure the other won’t disappear.

Those unspoken things hang in the air again, but they ignore them for a moment. There’s an adrenaline rush coursing through their veins, terrifying and intoxicating and suffocating at the same time. There’s only one thing that’s abundantly clear: they’d both been ready to see the end that day. It turned out that this was just another beginning.

Neither is fine, but fine is overrated anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to see my mental breakdowns live you can find me on tumblr @itstrulyastrangerthing


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